


collision course

by Swell



Category: New Girl
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Ness - Freeform, PWP, Plot What Plot, Smut, Well some plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:12:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10733868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swell/pseuds/Swell
Summary: certainty: (noun)something that will definitely happen or that you feel very sure aboutBasically a bunch one-shots of times Nick and Jess could have fallen in bed together (but didn’t in canon).Read the beginning notes for the AU parameters.





	1. S1e13: valentine’s day AU

**S1e13: valentine’s day AU**

  
  


_ An AU in which Nick never met Julia; _

_ There’s no No-Nail Oath; _

_ And Jess is too twirly for her own good. _

  
  
\---  
  


Nick comes home late from a closing shift at the bar. He’d volunteered to work on Valentine’s Day since there might be good tippers out trying to impress girls, and it wasn’t like he had anyone else to hang out with. He was vaguely aware that Schmidt and Jess both planned to go out and find some one-night stands in protest to the “holiday”, but he was too busy to really care.

 

He comes in at 1 am, tries to creep in quietly, and flips on the light to throw his hoodie across the couch.    
  


The light illuminates Jess; she’s silhouetted against Schmidt’s door. The sudden light makes her jump, and she drops the biggest box of condoms Nick’s ever seen. They scatter across the floor and she wails, mortified, dropping down to her knees as she starts shoveling them back into the package.   
  
“You were going to have sex? With Schmidt?!” Nick yelps quietly as he helps her clean the condoms up.   
  
“I’m twirly!” she says, embarrassed.   
  
“You wanted Schmidt for that? Seriously? He’s my friend, but he is not the kind of person someone like you should try to do a one-time hookup with. There are things some people don’t need to know about.”   
  


“He said it should be someone I know,” she says quietly, doubtfully. “I mean, the stranger thing didn’t exactly work out tonight. I found out about a guy named Oliver’s detailed week of tacos, and am still… unsatisfied.”   
  
“I mean, Schmidt isn’t the only one around with a penis,” he says quietly.   
  
“Winston would never go for me,” Jess says doubtfully.   
  
“Seriously?” Nick stage-whispers. 

“Why, do you think he-”   
  
Nick grabs her around the middle abruptly; she shrieks until he covers her mouth with his palm, then relaxes into his arms. He pulls her across the living room and into the hallway between their doorways. When he lets go, she resumes her sentence like he’d never interrupted her.

 

“Do you think he would?” She blinks her big doe eyes up at him.   
  
“I’m not talking about Winston.” He lets the silence hang in the air for a moment.   
  
“...you?” she yelps. “You… want to have sex with me?!”   
  
“I am willing to help a friend with her twirling,” he says nonchalantly. 

 

“It’s not called- I’m- ugh, Nick!” she cries. She reaches for her doorknob, rounding her shoulders and hiding her face.  
  
“You’re what, Jess?” he asks, challengingly. She looks at him over her shoulder. “You’re twirly?” He drops his voice down deeper and speaks more quietly, leans toward her a fraction. “You’re… _horny_?”

She breathes in and looks up at him, makes a tiny nod. He feels like if he moves too fast, she’ll bolt, like a wild animal. He brings his fingers up to brush against her forearm, uses it to guide her into turning back toward him. He traces his finger up the line of her arm, strokes her neck, settles under her chin. He leans in closer. “You just want someone inside you, making you feel good?”   
  
She nods mutely, pupils gigantic, searching his.    
  
“I could do that,” he says, sincerely. “I would do that, for you, Jessica.”   
  
She leans up and kisses him sweetly, softly. He lets her linger, then threads his hands through her hair and pulls her face to his more roughly. She drops the box again, and the condoms pile around their feet. He winds his hand around her waist and she moans quietly into his mouth, and he knows he’s screwed, because this is so much more than a hookup to him, and he knows it.   
  


“And I promise it won’t take 100 condoms,” he grins, breaking the kiss and possibly the moment.   
  
“Shut up, Nick,” she says breathlessly, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into her room. He follows her blindly, not really believing this is happening. She almost doesn’t look like Jess; she’s all slinky black shorts and a clingy top and tights, and heels, and smokey makeup. She pulls off the tank top and proves she wasn’t wearing a bra, and yeah, that’s Jess, all right, because he vividly remembers her pert breasts and the tips of her seashell-pink nipples from the mutually naked disaster. She tugs impatiently at his belt, and he snaps back to reality, helping her with the buckle, kicking off his boots, shucking off his boxers and jeans in one smooth motion and only tripping over them a little as he falls toward the mattress.   
  
She turns her back to him, suddenly shy, then looks over her shoulder, hair rippling like a black curtain across the creamy expanse of her back. Her thumbs hook on the waistband of her shorts and drag them down, inch by inch, until her little heart-shaped butt is in full view, then the stockings and shorts pool on the carpet as she steps free of them. She turns and pounces on him, making the mattress squeak in protest.   
  
“Hey, hang on,” he mumbles as she fumbles for a condom (in her bedside table, oh irony). “No rush, are you even-”    
  
He slides his hand down her body, slips his fingers into her folds and curses softly at how wet she is.   
  
“Told you,” she says brightly. “Twirly.” She fists her hand over his cock, slips the condom over him, and sits on him so quickly that he can only make a strangled noise of shock in response. Her hips slam down onto his with punishing speed, and he reaches up to grab on either side of them. When he touches her, she sits up, eyes slammed shut. He gathers her in his hands and gently stops her, mid-stroke. She looks up at him.   
  
“Just need to-slowdown,” he says weakly. “Too- don’t wanna-”   
  
She nods, bites her lip, then grinds down, pushing him deeper inside, and rocks forward. She whimpers, and he gets the idea, reaches one hand down to rub against her clit, and she makes a noise so gorgeous that it’s almost obscene. She lifts up, and this time, he slams up into her, taking some control, controlling the pace now with slower, shallower thrusts. His back will complain tomorrow, but it is worth it right now.

 

“Yes,” she prays. “That, that is- oh…” She suddenly stiffens, tightening even more around him, and falls apart.   
  
“Holy shit, did you just- I mean, you-” Nick says, dumbfounded.   
  
“Came, yep, can still come more, can we just flip, want you deeper, need you more…” she mumbles, and he maybe hasn’t ever moved this fast in his life, sits up and wraps his arms around her and tumbles over so that she’s below him.    
  
“You need me deeper, honey?” he says gently, an edge to his voice, something that has gone unsaid since September. 

“Yes, ple-”    
  
He doesn’t make her finish the word before he slips back between her thighs, hitching her knees up over his hips and sinking into her as deeply as physics will allow. She hisses a little and he pulls back.   
  


“Okay?” he asks, concerned; she nods.   
  
“Just- been a while,” she answers, opening her eyes again and smiling a little back up at him. “Kinda bending a way I haven’t in a long time.” When he goes to pull back, she crosses her ankles. “No you don’t,” she says mischievously, and she’s Jess, they could be having coffee and fighting over the last doughnut on a Sunday morning, with the way they’re speaking, but they’re actually having sex.

 

Really, really good sex.

 

“I’ll show you what I do,” he says, nonsensically, then dips down to kiss her, starting with her lips, then moving down to her neck, nipping hard at her earlobe, and when he bites down on her neck, she comes again with a startled cry. Nick knows now that Schmidt owes him $5 because he totally pegged Jess as a girl into some roughness in the sack.

 

He snaps his hips, rutting into her almost lazily as she rides her orgasm out. When she drifts back, she smooths her palms up his arms and across his shoulders, digging in her nails, and he smiles, genuinely, and speeds up until everything goes white and he finishes with a low moan into her clavicle. 

They sit for a moment, catching their breath. He finally, carefully reaches down, keeps the condom over himself as he pulls out, then drags it off, ties it off, and tosses the offending latex off the bed. She makes a disgusted face, meeting his eyes, and he nods, sliding back up behind her, thoughtlessly tracing his way across her belly, pulling her back against him. She laughs so quietly that he might have imagined it.

 

“You’re finding that in the morning,” she says softly, still amused.  
  
"Sure," he agrees carelessly, nuzzles her neck.  
  
Most one-night stands don’t cuddle afterward; _oops_.   
  
She settles, wiggles her ass against his soft cock. “Thanks, Nick,” she says. 

 

...

  
...He’s _totally_ fucked.


	2. s1e15 injured AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin;
> 
> from Jess' perspective (as suggested)
> 
> a sexual act more than sex
> 
> (remember, these are all stand-alone AU’s that don’t connect to any other story in this collection)

**S1e15: injured AU**

 

_an AU in which stuff happened that night on the beach_

 

\--

So Nick might be dying, and it’s Jess’ fault; well, not really.  
  
She did slam into him, tackling him during football, because he was looking really tackle-able. And it was an excuse to touch him…

 

(Does she need the excuse to touch him?)

 

She and Nick have always been really comfortable with physical interaction, pretty much from the beginning of their friendship. Jess has always been a hugger, which helps, and it’s only a little weird that Jess seems to be the exception rather than the rule to Nick’s non-touchy policy.

 

(Because Cece might not be totally off base; maybe Nick has a little crush on her, but whatever, Jess gets little crushes left and right, and it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just like… hormones and close proximity and biology, and stuff.)

 

Nick’s always putting his hand on the small of her back, and opening doors, and leaning in close when he talks to her, and sitting next to her automatically, and a few times she’s actually felt herself being lifted through the air. He picks her up like she weighs nothing, which kind of reminds her that under the flannel and dirty jeans and an extra few pounds Nick is really nicely built, with really, really nice arms. He’s solid and warm the way you want your future husband to be.

 

But then she hurt Nick, because he landed badly, so she yells at him until he agrees to go to her doctor friend, Sadie, who just happens to mostly work with vaginas and babies.

 

(Jess is aware that she can get Nick to do almost anything with the right look and tone of voice, which is also evidence of the theory Cece has, but...well.)

 

His back will be fine, but he has a lump in his neck. And because he’s a trainwreck of a manchild who makes bad life choices, he has no insurance and no money, so he’s just going to ignore it until it kills him.

 

As if Jessica Day would let that happen to anyone she kind of knew, nevermind one of her best friends. Because Nick has somehow become one of her best friends. Her first really guy best friend that she hasn’t messed around with, because mixing sex and friendship always ends messily.

 

Nick is sexy in ways Jess hasn’t really thought consciously about before as a woman. There’s something about the depth of his eyes, the passion that creeps into his voice when he’s angry (which let’s be honest, he’s always a little angry at something), the way he takes slow drags out of longneck beers, the way he can open stuck jars and windows… he’s the old timey kind of man that is pretty rare these days. And they’re still pretty young so yeah maybe that will happen someday.

 

Then she and Schmidt look up the symptoms of thyroid cancer while they’re holding watch over Nick while he’s working at the bar. Just in case he decides to do something stupid, like flee.

 

She doesn’t feel too bad, later, when they’re various degrees of toasted and she tells him blankly that he never does anything.

 

She can be real, despite what Nick thinks. It bothers her, that little comment, maybe more than it should. Because she is a woman, not a little girl. She’s a happy, optimistic woman who is surrounded by kids by choice all day, sure, but she still is an adult. An adult that has experienced her share of love, loss, sex, desire, responsibility… just with more glitter than most other people. That’s all. And Nick’s perception of her matters, for reasons she’d need to be a whole lot more drunk to really examine.

 

They decide to go the beach because that’s the first thing Nick said when he said he didn’t want to miss things anymore, so they take Winston’s car and Cece, the only one sober, drives. And Nick might be dying.

 

He runs out into the ocean, shedding clothes as he runs down along the sand until all she can see in the distance is his pasty white butt disappearing into the water. He has thick legs that balance out his arms and shoulders. He’s running pretty good for someone with a bruised spine, high on pain pills and drunk besides. Jess briefly worries he’ll drown until he comes screaming back out of the water like five seconds after he gets wet.

 

Naturally, he’s also stark naked when he comes back, and her eyes only flicker down to his junk like, twice, mostly noticing that the water must be really cold because she vividly remembers what his plenty looks like and that isn’t the whole story.

 

He sprints back up to her, pulling on his jeans while soaking and shouting and shivering. She helps him wrap his flannel back on and he yells at her when she asks if he’s okay. Of course he’s not okay! He might be dying. She feels even worse because at least if he was dying this morning from the neck tumor thing, he didn’t know about it to worry.

 

He sinks down into the sand with his head in his hands and her heart drops. Winston drapes his coat over him, and Nick just stares out into the waves. The others keep their distance, but she won’t. She will always be that person that has to step in and find out what is going through his mind. Jess waits until he flops back and starts making sand angels, staring up at the stars, before she sits down next to him. She helps him up when he asks her to.

 

It turns out that Nick actually knows she’s right and he wants to do things, he’s just scared to. Jess gets that, definitely. He also kind of confesses he has a crush on her, by saying he likes her a lot and he’s glad she’s around. A little wave of panic flashes in his eyes which is how she knows he is holding back bigger words, but it’s enough. She owes Cece lunch now.

 

It also makes her next decision so much easier, because she knows she likes Nick back, because he’s a total Matheau from Grumpy Old Men. And he might be dying, and she refuses to have regrets. He smiles at her and says he’s not going to remember any of this in the morning, so she gives him back a Donald Duck impression. They giggle together, and Jess peers over her shoulder. Winston walked back to the car, far off in the distance; Cece and Schmidt are huddled off about a hundred yards east, engrossed in their own conversation. (Cece might not get that free lunch because Jess challenged her Nick-has-feelings-bet with her own that she and Schmidt would end up hooking up.) They agree they should go home, but neither moves to get up.

 

His smile fades as he looks at her, and her breath hitches. His eyes roam her face, from her eyes to her lips and back again.

 

“I like you too, Nick,” she admits. “How drunk are you, exactly?”

 

“Drunk enough to tell you I like you,” he says easily. “Not so drunk that you should feel like you have to say it back.”

 

“I’d tell you that sober, Nicolas. I do like you. You’re one of my favorite people.” She starts to slide her coat off her one arm, slips it off her shoulders. He watches her with interest.

 

“It’s cold, Jess, what are ya doin’?”  
  
“Shut up, Nick,” she says softly. She scoots closer and lays her coat over his lap, lays her hand on his chest and gently pushes. He lies back without resistance, though he does quietly repeat his question. She tucks in beside him, looking up at his chin in the dark.

 

“What if they tell you you have cancer, Nick?” she whispers. She pillows her head on his shoulder and lets her one hand drift over the top of her coat, on his thigh. He swallows heavily in response.

 

“I- don’t know,” he says finally.

 

“Do you ever think about missed opportunities?” Jess wonders. “Things unsaid, things you might have done, things you assumed you might do someday but now that could never come?”  
  
“That’s basically the autobiography of Nick Miller,” he chuckles darkly. He stops when her hand finds its way under the coat. She searches around with her fingers for the button of his jeans, and he jumps when she mistakenly tickles him, but doesn’t laugh.

 

“Jess,” he says, and it sounds like three men; a warning one, a hopeful one, and a sad one, all mixed up in one. “I don’t want-”  
  
She begins to pull her hand back; his appears and grabs her wrist, smooths his rough thumb over her pulse point.

 

“I don’t want- _pity_ ,” his voice cracks. “I do want you. Have always. Probably will always,” he adds.

 

She finds the button, opens it, and slides down his fly before he can say anything else. Her warm hand on his johnson makes him gasp like a girl, and she shushes him. She takes another look at Cece and Schmidt, who have noticed nothing. While she looks, Cece lays back, facing the other way, and Schmidt turns the same direction. They’re upwind, too; if she can keep him quiet, they can probably get away with this.

 

He hardens in her grasp and he settles back more deeply in the sand, done with questions apparently; she keeps her eyes trained on his throat, notices the lump move as he swallows back a groan. She tugs the flesh back and forth slowly, experimentally; before long he’s a solid, warm weight in her palm. It’s easier because he’s uncut; her thumb swirls over the head and she spreads the moisture collected there around, but it’s still not enough. She pulls back and he almost gets up, but she spits in her hand and brings it back, sliding much more easily, and now he can’t hold back the moan, low and ragged.

 

If he hadn’t just run into the ocean she would put her mouth on him, but he probably would taste like the wrong kind of salty, so she jerks him with steadily increasing pressure and pace. He starts to buck his hips into her fist rhythmically, so she figures she’s doing something right. After a few minutes, her arm starts to get tired, and he helpfully brings his hand around, wordlessly lacing his fingers with hers and that’s so hot that she is back in the game. He is a lot rougher with himself than she was, and she matches the pressure, which is when he abruptly, legitimately fucks into their combined hands for a few thrusts, then he is murmurs her name once, desperately, as sudden wet warmth moves its way down her knuckles.

 

She stays still as he shifts skyward a couple more times, riding out his orgasm. Then he drops back down to the sand with a loud, contented sigh.

 

He turns to face her and they look at each other.  
  
“Who are you?” he asks with awe, after a few minutes.

 

“Your friend,” she says back, a smile in her voice.

 

“I should do something about this,” he motions to his groin. “But I really can’t. It’s, uh, all in my pants at least. I don’t think any got on your coat.”  
  
“Oh, it definitely did, I wiped my hand on the lining,” she replies thoughtfully. She reaches over and pulls it back on, and feels the wetness touch her back, but can’t bring herself to care.

 

He takes off Winston’s coat and spreads it out, then turns, nodding toward Cece and Schmidt. Jess lays back down and feels him pull himself close around her, fitting her butt into his groin, a hand slipping over her waist. It feels like the most natural thing in the world.

 

She falls asleep to the sound of the sea and his soft snores above her ear.

 

The next morning, he wakes her with a gentle pat on her waist, stroking back and forth along the curve of her hip. “Hey, you gotta wake up, it’s the morning,” he says, grasping her arm with his hand and looking down into her face as she rolls to greet him.

 

They share a little smile as they get everyone else up and trudge back to the car.

 

Thankfully, Nick doesn’t have cancer. She is so relieved that she almost forgets what had happened, even though now it might happen again because he isn’t dying.

 

They leave the hospital and he climbs in beside her in the Explorer, their thighs rubbing against each other in the small space. He angles his chest so they can look at each other, putting his arm around her, and she knows something has changed.

 

“Hey Jess?” he says softly, in a voice not meant for the others. Jess turns and looks up at him, making a questioning noise.  
  
“What happened last night?” he says, eyes searching hers, smiling a little. She grins back at him, lingering her gaze on his lips.  
  
“Nothing,” she replies innocently.

  
If she ends up in his room a couple hours and a shower later, lips swirling around him; well that was just a coincidence.


End file.
